She walked with
an air of measured gaiety and
carefully veiled frailty, her
skin charred by the naked flames
of her own desires, tells everyone
she’s crazy like her brand of
crazy was a circus lion to
be caged and showed off, but
never realized to his full power.
She was eccentric in the way
that she stretched her palms
out, asking for more– not
love or solicitude, even though
that would have been a fine
thing to ask for–
but for pain and incompleteness,
for love devoured but never
returned, she was selfless
in the way she tore open
her heart and served it to
him on a platter, garnished
with the pieces of her she was
proud of, while tucking away
her fallacies into oblivion.
‘May I please fall in love
and drown in it until he
skins the last remains of
my heart and devours it,
and oh no, I wouldn’t mind
the blood,
the closed fist and
shackles of neglect in return.’
Her existence is starving.
And yet, she has
too many to
feed. Too many to
foster. Too many
too much to be loved
to be able to love
herself.
Moyurie Som is a seventeen-year-old Arctic Monkeys fangirl and Mad Men maniac. Poetry to her is catharsis, a fire that makes words gurgle out from inside her into curly-wurlies inked across paper. When she’s not writing, she likes exploring art, undertaking gastronomical adventures, or documenting her life online. Or maybe just sleeping. Reach her at [email protected] and visit her blog at www.vodkaonheels.wordpress.com.